It Can Only Get Worse From Here
by Bright Blue Waffles
Summary: A short humorous chapter about Arthur, Merlin, Mordred, Percival, Leon and Gwaine in a tavern. As you may have guessed from the title, it goes very badly wrong! Please read and review - it's very much appreciated!


**This is just a little story about why you shouldn't ever take Gwaine to a tavern. I might add another chapter, but I don't know if that'll ruin it or not. I hope you enjoy it! **

**Disclaimer - I don't own Merlin.**

"I cannot _begin_ to comprehend your stupidity, Merlin! Are you a complete idiot?"

"Oh, come on, Arthur," said Mordred playfully, nudging Arthur's arm. He was the one seated next to him around the table in the Rising Sun tavern. Merlin, Gwaine, Percival and Leon were seated around the other side. "Don't be so harsh."

Arthur glared at him. "You're only saying that because you're turning into a mini-Merlin. You've been talking to him far too much – it's only a matter of time before you go and knock beer all over my lap as well. And, for the record, I am not being harsh."

A stony silence followed, broken only by Arthur clearing his throat as he dabbed at his wet trousers. Percival was sitting there staring dead ahead, his fist jammed in his mouth and his shoulders shaking.

_If anything else funny happens, _thought Merlin, _he'll explode._

There was to be no more silence, as Gwaine was swigging from a bottle and repeatedly telling Leon that he loved him, whilst Leon tried to force the knight away. Percival took a mouthful of beer, caught sight of Gwaine and promptly sprayed his mouthful across the table... right in Mordred's face.

_Oh, no, _thought Merlin, wincing.

"DEAR GOD, PERCIVAL!"  
"Sorry," sighed Percival, handing Mordred a rag, "I saw Gwaine... er... doing whatever it is that he's doing, and I couldn't contain myself."  
"Believe me, it's _not _funny," said Leon.

"Gwaine always ends up off his head," said Percival. "And usually it's hilarious. That's why we take him with us, right? Entertainment?"

"Well, I don't know why else we'd want to bring him," grimaced Leon, cringing away from Gwaine. Gwaine promptly started singing _Ba Ba Black Sheep._ Mordred looked like he was about to throw up (and no, it wasn't due to Gwaine's singing, even though it was bad enough to make grown men weep. In fact, Leon _was_ weeping, perhaps to prove the point).

"I feel like I'm about to throw up," said Mordred.

"Go to the toilet," advised Arthur. "For the benefit of us all. I've already had Merlin spill his drink all over me, and I saw you get covered in a mixture of Percival's spit and beer. I cannot _deal _with you being sick all over me."  
"Yes, sire," said Mordred, and sprinted away.

A few moments passed, followed by the unpleasant sound of something splashing in a toilet bowl.

Another pause.

Another splash.

Then -

"It's OK, guys! I wasn't sick! It was just explosive diarrhoea again!"

Yet another pause.

"Oops... I forgot I was in public..."

Merlin closed his eyes, wondering where he went wrong with Mordred.

"Why does it always end like this?" wailed Leon, interrupting the awkward silence that followed.

"What, Mordred making a mess of the tavern toilets in a way that is not polite to mention?" asked Merlin, frowning.

"I meant, Gwaine getting completely drunk," replied Leon, "and then everything going wrong as a consequence."

"Oh, yes," Merlin nodded, sighing. "That does seem to happen a lot."

"Tell me about it," scowled Arthur. "Right, once Mordred is... ahem... _done_, we're going back before Gwaine sets fire to the place. It can only get worse from here."

* * *

Half an hour later, Arthur was sitting at his table, his head in his hands. According to a very flustered Merlin (who had just left after bursting into the room), Gwaine had destroyed the armoury and was currently being put into a straight-jacket until morning, as he was 'a danger to himself and anyone nearby').

"Hello, Arthur," came a voice, and he looked up to see Gwen coming through the door.

"Guinevere," he said, giving her the only smile he had given anyone all evening. "How was your evening?"

"Better than yours, I think," she laughed. "I heard about Gwaine in the armoury. You need to stop letting him have beer!"

Arthur nodded, and sighed, "It was awful, Guinevere. First -"

"Oh, no, I think I know what happened," said Gwen. "First... Merlin spilt beer all over you. Then, Percival spat all over Mordred as a result of Gwaine drunkenly declaring his love for Leon. Mordred went to the toilet to be sick, and ended up having explosive diarrhoea instead. Similar to the truth?"

"Yes," gasped Arthur, staring at Gwen in surprise. "That's _exactly _right! How did you know?"

Gwen laughed, and leant on the table, smiling idly at Arthur.

"You men are _so _predictable."


End file.
